


Itsy Bitsy Crush

by tsunderei



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, High School, Kageyama can play the piano, Light Angst, M/M, Piano, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderei/pseuds/tsunderei
Summary: Hinata has always kind of liked Kageyama’s hands. But seeing them like this is just something else entirely.





	Itsy Bitsy Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the semi-suggestive (?) summary lol the T-rating is real. Please enjoy!

“Sorry for the intrusion!”

The words echo cheerily from the hallway, easily brightening up a seemingly empty house. Hinata stumbles clumsily in the wake of his greeting and waves his arms for balance, trying to unzip his jacket and kick his shoes off at the same time.

“I told you they’re not home,” Kageyama reminds him with a roll of his eyes and closes the door behind them.

“Oh, right.” Hinata laughs a little, embarrassed. “Force of habit, sorry.”

“Wanna eat or study first? If you’re hungry I can heat something up.”

“I’m good, actually!” he chirps as he follows his friend into the living room. “We’ve got loads to do so maybe we should just get started and then eat later?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Sure, whatever. I’ll get us something to drink.”

It’s turned into a routine for the two of them to head home to Kageyama’s after school. The amount of homework has increased in their second year, it’s not possible to finish it all during self-study classes, and they’re already united in their mutual frustration over English grammar and math equations. It’s only natural that they’d end up studying together – or at least _trying_ together. They mostly stay at Kageyama’s place because he lives closer to school with no mountain to cross. It’s also much quieter than the Hinata household, with no risk of needy little sisters butting in or well-meaning mothers constantly fussing over them.

Kageyama’s parents are usually busy with work and Hinata has only briefly met them a couple of times. They’re definitely nice people, he likes them a lot, but deep down he’s kind of happy they aren’t home whenever he visits. Seeing the Kageyama family together is strange and intimidating in a way Hinata can’t quite explain. He first thought it had something to do with the fact that Kageyama so obviously resembles his parents, with his father’s height and his mother’s good looks, and that this lineup of three times Kageyama was just too much for him. But recently he’s realized that he really just wants Kageyama’s parents to like him, which is weird. He’s never felt worried or anxious about getting people to like him before.

Hinata flops down at the table. He’s too unmotivated to get his textbooks out, or even think about homework, so instead he looks around at the few pictures on the wall. They’re mostly just various paintings or prints but there are definitely also a few photos of a young, round-faced, bright-eyed Kageyama Tobio. Hinata grins, making a mental note of teasing him about those pictures.

He sits up, stretches his arms above his head, and is mid-yawn when he suddenly spots something in the far corner. A second passes before he recognizes it as a piano. He frowns, wondering how come he hasn’t noticed it before, but it’s black and ordinary and blends well with its surroundings. At first glance it looks both used and unused at the same time; there’s not a single trace of dust on it but there aren’t many discernible fingerprints on the lid either.

He looks up at the jingling sound of glass and Kageyama appears in the doorway, carrying a tray.

“So who’s the musician?”

“Huh?”

Hinata gestures at the piano. “Does your Mom play?”

Kageyama follows the movement of his hand and the confused frown on his face gradually disappears. “Oh, that thing.” He walks over to him and sets the tray down. “No, she doesn’t play.”

“So you guys keep a piano for decoration…?”

Kageyama hesitates for a moment but then shrugs matter-of-factly. “I used to play, some time ago.”

It takes a while for that piece of information to sink in and Hinata stares at him as though he just sprouted a second head. It sounds unlikely, first of all, but it also sounds like something that’s been taken out of context and then wildly misinterpreted. Of all the things Kageyama could have told him he definitely did not expect this, and he certainly didn’t expect him to actually share it with him so freely.

“Seriously?!” Hinata blurts out in disbelief. “ _You_ can play the piano?”

Kageyama simply blinks at him, perplexed. “Is that weird or something?”

“N-no!” Hinata stutters quickly, waving his hands. “No, of course not. I mean, I just… I had no idea you played,” he finishes lamely, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of his best friend at the piano. It’s an image he’s literally unable to conjure up, as if such a thing could never exist.

“Well,” Kageyama says in a tone that wants to end the discussion. “I do.”

“Okay, play something, then!” Hinata demands before he can stop himself.

“Why…?”

“Because I don’t believe you, you have to prove it!” He doesn’t really mean that. He’s just itching to find out what it could possibly sound like: Kageyama – _this_ very Kageyama right in front of him – playing the piano. “I mean, maybe you’re just joking! I can never tell when you’re joking.”

“Why the hell would I joke about that?”

“Don’t be so difficult, just please play something.” He reaches across the table and tugs insistently on his sleeve, pouting. “Please, _please,_ Kageyamaaa –”

Kageyama stubbornly holds his glare but in the end he sighs in defeat. “ _Alright_ , fine,” he grumbles reluctantly. “Let go of me, you’re so annoying.”

Hinata almost skip-runs as he follows him over to the piano. He takes a seat next to him on the stool and eagerly bumps their shoulders together, a move that earns him an irritated shove in return.

“Hey, don’t push!”

“You’re in the way!”

“I wanna see –”

“I have literally no room, dumbass! How am I supposed to play like this?”

“But you have long arms –”

They bicker and elbow each other until they finally settle into something acceptable for them both. Hinata stares excitedly at the shiny black and white keys in front of them, practically vibrating in his seat. He doesn’t really have much knowledge about the piano, nor does he have the words to be articulate and profound about it. He simply doesn’t know what to expect. It’s as if he’s about to be presented with an extremely rare treat and he’s both thrilled and a little nervous about it.

“What’re you gonna play?”

“Does it matter?” Kageyama mutters as he rifles through his sheet music. “You wouldn’t know what it was anyway, even if I told you.”

Hinata hums and nods. “True.”

Kageyama decides on something with a title Hinata doesn’t know how to read and spreads the sheets out neatly. He stretches his wrists and hands a couple of times, fists clenching and unclenching, before he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up. Hinata quietly watches in half amusement, half fascination as Kageyama straightens his back and then poses his hands over the keys, letting them hover there for a second before he starts playing.

When the first couple of notes hits him, Hinata can’t even grasp what he’s listening to. It’s a little overwhelming, a little confusing, but when his mind eventually stops lagging with surprise he knows one thing for sure: that he is completely awestruck.

Kageyama is good. He’s _really_ good and Hinata can’t help but stare at his hands. Those graceful hands bringing this melody to life belong to _Kageyama_. This is the very same Kageyama who bickers with him, grabs his head, swears when he shouldn’t, and scowls by default. It’s the Kageyama he hangs out with and plays volleyball with everyday, and yet it’s also somehow a completely different person.

“Wow,” Hinata breathes out in the end. “You – you’re amazing…”

“Nah, more like intermediate.” Kageyama shrugs, causing his hands to fall out of synch for a brief second and the melody stutters. “I quit in middle school, after I got more serious about volleyball, so I’m pretty rusty. But it’s fun playing this piece, though,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “I used to practice it a lot.”

To know Kageyama used to practice something that _wasn’t_ volleyball and even thought it was fun sounds absurd and frankly a bit unreal, but the proof he’s not joking is right in front of Hinata’s eyes. Or, rather – worming its way into his ears.

“What… made you want to learn how to play the piano?”

“I didn’t particularly want to.” He pauses briefly, squints at the sheet music, and then continues to play. “Because I don’t have any siblings my parents were afraid I’d be bored without a hobby. My Mom really wanted me to start doing something artsy or whatever, she even had me try ballroom dancing before I chose the piano – ah, damnit, I always hated this passage –”

Kageyama curses as he hits a couple of wrong notes, making the tune stumble strangely, but it’s this piece of new information and not his mistakes that almost has Hinata slipping right off the stool. Apparently this is the day for unlikely Kageyama-confessions and he wonders if he’s accidentally ended up in some kind of alternate reality.

“Ballroom dancing?” he splutters, shocked. “ _You_?!”

“Yeah? So?” Kageyama shoots him a quick, bewildered frown. “Didn’t your Mom dress you up and make you attend dancing school when you were little?”

“Um… no?”

“Oh. Lucky you, then.”

Hinata tries to imagine a younger Kageyama twirling around in a big, softly lit dance hall, but all he ends up with is the mental image of current Kageyama in a suit, moving elegantly to the exact same music he’s playing right now, and he immediately pushes the thought away because it’s just making him blush.

“Um, but then you got into volleyball, right?” he asks hastily.

“Not right away,” Kageyama admits. “I tried baseball for a little while; I was a catcher. But I also wanted to play all the other positions all at once so it didn’t work out.”

Hinata snorts. “That’s _so_ you.”

“Shut up. Oh, and I also gave tennis a shot because of my Dad; he used to play it in high school. But in the end my parents agreed a team sport probably would be better.”

“Better how? I’m sure you’d make a great tennis player.”

“Don’t know.” Kageyama shrugs again and another unwanted skip cuts through the smooth melody. “Maybe they thought I’d self-destruct otherwise. If you can’t work together with other people then what’s the point?”

Hinata stares at him. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s the careful and subtle way he moves, or maybe it’s just the sudden gravity invading the moment, but Kageyama looks so vulnerable. Hinata has seen him vulnerable before, he’s grown with him through victories and losses, they’ve fought and yelled and then made up again, like friends tend to do. But this isn’t the same. He’s in his second year of knowing Kageyama and he thought he’d figured him out pretty well already. It seems he’s mistaken.

“I’m really happy you ended up with volleyball,” Hinata replies softly.

He’s barely even said it when Kageyama suddenly stops playing and his cheeks turn warm in an instant, a small wave of regret hitting him. He’s sure Kageyama heard him and now wants to know what the hell he meant by that, but when he turns to face him his question is rather unexpected.

“Wanna try?”

Hinata blinks, confused. “Eh?”

Kageyama clicks his tongue impatiently. “Wanna try playing?”

“Play…? _Me_? But –” Hinata frowns at him, then down at the piano keys, and then back at Kageyama. He waves his hands helplessly. “I – I don’t know how to play like you do –”

“Of course not, dumbass, you’ll start with ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ just like everyone else. Here, look –”

Before he knows it Kageyama scoots closer, leans against him, and takes his right hand in both of his. He tugs it closer to the keys and spreads his fingers carefully with warm hands that are much bigger than his own.

“This chord is a G major, okay? Your fingers go here, here, and here…” He expertly places Hinata’s fingers in the right position and presses them down lightly, coaxing a clumsy note from the piano.

“And this is another version of the same chord, just in a slightly different order.” He rearranges his fingers again. “It’s pretty easy, like this…”

The piano makes another halting note but Hinata barely even registers it. Right now his senses are full of Kageyama, and only him: the warmth radiating from his body, the smooth feel of his skin, the scent of wood and cinnamon clinging to his hair.

“Oi, make an effort, will you?” Kageyama interrupts his tangle of thoughts with an annoyed huff. “Your fingers are too short and stiff for playing the piano. At least try to soften up a bit.”

He gives the root of Hinata’s pinky a light squeeze, kneading it gently between his thumb and index finger, which is an oddly sweet and encouraging gesture. Hinata is shocked at how pliant his hands are when they are in Kageyama’s. The rest of his body is rigid, almost painfully so, but his hands are warm and soft and fluid, as if they’re not even a part of his body anymore, as if they fully belong to Kageyama now.

It’s funny, though. They’ve been hands-on with each other before, many times. They practically wrestled their way through the entirety of their first year. But this is a different kind of hands-on. And speaking of hands, Hinata has always kind of liked Kageyama’s. He takes great care of them, always keeps them neat and pretty, and honestly why wouldn’t Hinata like them? That’s where all the great sets come from, all those amazing tosses he loves so much. Those hands are so important to the kind of volleyball he gets to play today.

However, seeing those hands in this situation, dancing so elegantly over the piano keys, touching _his_ hands like this – it’s just something else entirely. Hinata’s heart is racing like mad and it’s downright terrifying because he _knows._ He knows all too well that it’s not just Kageyama’s hands he likes. He also knows that he’s known this for a while. Having to admit it to himself right now, to claim a ten on a scale where ten means ‘I like you’, is enough to make him crumble on the inside.

“You okay?”

The sudden question yanks Hinata out of his head, forcing him back into the moment and all the chaotic sensations attached to it. It’s as though he’s been dropped back into his own body and he’s only now noticing the sweat on his back, his burning ears, his clammy fingers. Next to him, Kageyama is frowning. Hinata doesn’t even have to turn his head to check; he can practically feel those dark blue eyes boring into his temple. Instead he keeps staring down at his hands, which are still poised and ready and covered by Kageyama’s palms.

At this rate Kageyama will notice, too. He’ll definitely notice that Hinata likes him way more than he likes his hands. He’s pretty sure that’s a bad thing.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Kageyama repeats, concerned. “Your face is red.”

A beat passes where Hinata just short-circuits and doesn’t know what to say. Before he can stop himself he stands up and abruptly slams his hands down on the keys, drawing a horrid jumbled sound from the piano that startles them both.

“I – I gotta go,” he says hastily.

Kageyama frowns up at him with worry clearly written across his features. “Are you sick or something? Can I – can I do something to help–?”

“N-no, I just –”

“Then what’s the matter?”

A quick movement follows the question, long fingers wrapping tightly around Hinata’s wrist, and it nearly throws him headfirst into panic. He roughly pulls his arm free and takes a step back.

“Don’t touch me,” he utters and is immediately mortified, both with himself and the confused, almost hurt expression on Kageyama’s face.

“I – I mean – I seriously gotta go.” Hinata escapes into the hallway, pulls his shoes on in record time, and bolts out the door. “I’m sorry!”

He ignores Kageyama calling his name and scrambles to get his bike, pedaling home as fast as he can.

 

**

 

For several hours, even well into the next day, Hinata can hardly hear his own thoughts. Chairs scraping, chalk scratching against the blackboard, the teacher’s droning voice, his classmates laughing and chatting among themselves – all of it is drowned out, completely overpowered, by one single tune constantly playing over and over again in his head.

Ever since he ran away from Kageyama yesterday he hasn’t been able to get that melody off his mind. He almost didn’t get any sleep. All that’s been occupying his brain is that piano piece, burrowed into his consciousness like an insistent earworm, accompanied by the lingering memory of Kageyama’s hands gently cradling his.

He has no idea how he’s supposed to explain his weird behavior to him, and since they don’t have volleyball practice until the afternoon Hinata has been generously given the entire day to agonize over it. That is – until it’s time for lunch and Kageyama suddenly shows up in his classroom. Usually it’s the other way around but this time Kageyama has appeared as though he’s there to physically pick him up.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his bento box resting in his hands (those big hands that were on Hinata’s for such a long time yesterday, hands belonging to someone he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about ever since). “Wanna have lunch together?”

Hinata knows he can’t exactly refuse him like this so instead he turns a red that’s almost incandescent and nods without a word.

They make their way to the usual spot behind the gym in silence, Hinata lagging half a step behind Kageyama. He doesn’t seem at all different than what he normally does. He glances up at the back of his head, trying to find even the slightest indication of tense shoulders or a hint of a blush, but there isn’t much about him that suggests any obvious changes. That should make Hinata relaxed, maybe even happy, but for some reason it has the exact opposite effect. Maybe Kageyama just doesn’t care.

They’ve made it almost halfway through an uncomfortably quiet lunch when Kageyama finally speaks.

“So… are you okay now?” he asks, glancing at him sideways. “You were acting so strangely yesterday I thought you might be sick or something. Like, a stomach ache or whatever.”

Hinata chokes back a disappointed sigh. God, he’s _so_ stupid. Kageyama is so innocent, and caring, and _stupid._ And honestly, Hinata is an even bigger idiot for thinking he would notice, that he would somehow get it.

He nods shortly at his half-eaten lunch. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

Kageyama thoughtfully narrows his eyes at him for a moment, chewing slowly on a piece of broccoli, before he shrugs one shoulder and looks away. “Alright. That’s good.”

The words settle heavily between them like glue, thick and syrupy and imposing, and Hinata feels like he’s stepped right into it and gotten himself completely stuck. He doesn’t know what kind of difference it’ll make, maybe he’ll still be stuck one way or another, but things are definitely not ‘good’ and he knows Kageyama can tell something’s off. He can’t bear just sitting here, saying nothing.

“Actually…” he begins, nervously twirling one of his chopsticks between his fingers. “I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Fine. I’m not fine.”

“Okay…?” Kageyama puts his lunch down and turns to face him, his eyebrows raised in a question. “So spit it out. What’s wrong?”

Hinata takes a deep breath and looks up at the blue late summer sky, following the hazy, fading contrail left by a passing airplane. There are no familiar shapes among the clouds, no divine signs or helpful hints to assist him – only white bulky masses of vapor that probably doesn’t mean much to anyone watching. There’s no point wishing upon clouds. He’s completely on his own.

“Have you ever had really… invasive thoughts about a certain person before?”

Kageyama goes silent for a little while. His elbows leave his knees, where they have been resting, and he sits up straighter, almost as if he’s about to play the piano. He glances warily at him.

“What… do you mean?”

“I don’t know…” Hinata bites hard down on his lip and fixes his eyes on a spot in the distance, not sure how he’s supposed to explain feelings he barely understands himself. “Just, at first you think about them because of one thing, like how – how they always give you something you really want, such as – such as tosses, for example. And then you move on from tosses and you start thinking about something specific about them, like how they have really… nice hands. But then after a while you simply think about them more and more, and it’s not about tosses anymore, or their hands, it’s just… everything about that person. And in the end you can’t stop thinking about them.”

“Wait – who the hell are you talking about…?” Kageyama asks, and despite the dark frown on his face he doesn’t sound angry. Instead the words leave him slowly, like a question that’s not fully a question, and that ignites something in Hinata that he can’t hold back.

“I’m talking about _you_ , you idiot! Isn’t it obvious?! You’re the one I can’t stop thinking about! Okay? Because I like you!”

The words spill out of Hinata’s mouth in a rush, all loud and frustrated, making the silence that follows extra heavy and oppressive. Hinata doesn’t know what expression Kageyama is wearing because he doesn’t dare look in his direction. All he knows is that his confession – if he can even call it that – came out sounding nothing like he wanted it to and he’s already way past the make-or-break point. Now he’s just awaiting the verdict.

“Well,” Kageyama eventually says in a low breath that’s barely even audible.

He clears his throat and Hinata shuts his eyes, thinking this must be it; this is where things become really awkward and their relationship will never be the same again, this is the exact moment where he ruins everything.

“I guess… I guess I was hoping you were talking about me.”

Startled, Hinata opens his eyes. His racing thoughts stop dead in their tracks and for a good five seconds it seems the world has stopped turning as well.

“I knew _something_ was up,” Kageyama continues, and now he sounds borderline offended. “I’m not that stupid, you know, I had my suspicions. But I didn’t wanna ask you outright because if I was wrong it’d be super weird, right? It’s not something you just ask your best friend out of the blue. And… it’s not like I was gonna admit I’ve been crushing on you since last year.”

Hinata whips around and stares at Kageyama, who’s focusing intently on his feet.

“Huh…?” he says stupidly. “Are – are you for real?”

“Yeah, I’m for real!” Kageyama snaps. “Don’t make me repeat myself! I just –” He gestures vaguely into the air. “I wasn’t sure what you actually felt so I figured it’d be better if I didn’t bother you with it. If I’d mess it all up it seemed like too high of a fall.”

The faint rumble of another airplane reaches them but it’s partially drowned out by the melody still playing in Hinata’s head. Kageyama has stopped talking and Hinata is wondering if he’s also embarrassed about the fact that they’ve both obviously been massive idiots. Then he feels his hand wrapped up in a warm grip and the music in his head immediately stills. Hesitantly, Kageyama interlaces their fingers and Hinata stares at their loosely locked hands for a long moment, taking in the lovely lines of Kageyama’s fingers, the softness of his palm, his calloused fingertips. He dares a glance up at him and his heart does a somersault when he realizes that his cheeks too have blossomed bright pink.

They just sit there for a while holding hands, shoulders bumping and hearts beating fast.

“You thought you had a hand fetish or something at first, didn’t you?”

Hinata splutters at the sudden remark and looks up at Kageyama, who’s smirking back at him.

“Did not!” he protests, blushing violently. “I only liked them because of volleyball! And the piano! But I didn’t –”

The rest of whatever he wanted to say never makes it because Kageyama’s lips are suddenly on his. It’s a quick kiss, feather light and over in a heartbeat, but it’s also soft and tender, bringing with it a hint of cinnamon and even the faintest tinkle of piano keys.

“I’m flattered you like my hands so much,” Kageyama mutters when he pulls away, his breath ghosting over the corner of Hinata’s mouth.

“Shut up, I already said I like _you_.”

Hinata clumsily presses their lips together for a second time. It’s all teeth and noses and unsure hands, but it’s wholehearted and unapologetic and lasts long enough to leave them breathless by the time they break apart.

“Kageyama –”

He’s interrupted again when a mellow chime fills the air, telling them lunchtime is over, and Hinata has never been more disappointed to hear the school bell. He has no choice but to reluctantly let go of him, but as Kageyama moves to stand Hinata grabs his wrist, holding him back.

“Wait.” He hesitates, biting his lip. “I’m coming over after school. And then you’ll teach me how to play ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ – right?”

Kageyama considers his expression for a moment, blue eyes narrowing, before he nods. “Of course. I’ll teach you the waltz, too, if you like.”

Hinata tilts his head, curious. “Waltz?”

“It’s the only ballroom dance I remember.”

“Deal!” He grins widely and jumps up, swinging their hands happily between them. “But only if I get to dip you.”

Kageyama smirks, an eyebrow arched in a challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

They slowly make their way back to class, eyes not meeting but lips quirked into a smile, their hands still linked.

**Author's Note:**

> You ever wish your writing could be like a Makoto Shinkai movie? Does that make sense? Because I do.
> 
> I think I could have continued this fic well into the “after school” part but. I didn’t wanna. Hehe. No, seriously though, this was just meant to be a small attempt at clearing my head for my other actually planned fics. Never intended for this to even be 4k… And I also really just wanted to write piano player Kageyama. Anyway, this was fun and I hope you guys liked it, too! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on twitter [@tsun_derei](https://twitter.com/tsun_derei)!


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